Faerie Tale
by Duncan Johnson
Summary: Ellie Walker travels to England to spend Christmas with her grandmother, but finds herself part of a scheme a century in the making.
1. Episode One

_A sad tale's best for winter._

_I have one of sprites and goblins._

The Winter's Tale, Shakespeare

'What's that you're reading, dear?'

Ellie looked up from her book.

'This?' she asked. 'It's about the way a family copes following the death of the eldest daughter.'

'Sounds depressing,' the woman in the seat next to her remarked. 'Not my cup of tea at all. I much prefer something like this.' She held aloft her own slim paperback. 'You can never go far wrong with a good bit of rumpy-pumpy, that's what I say.'

* * *

Ellie Walker had barely finished her croissant and jam before all trays were put back into the upright position ready for landing. The plane then proceeded to circle the airport for an additional half an hour before finally beginning its descent. The woman next to her had slept all the way from Los Angeles, but now that she was awake she seemed to need someone to talk to. Well, to talk at might have been a more accurate description. She told Ellie all about her little garden and how she was afraid it might have been ruined while she was away by the storm. She talked about her two collie dogs being looked after by her neighbour, Mrs Cuthbertson, and how she had missed them so very much when she was in the States. And she talked about how, while the weather in California was very nice, thank you, it just wasn't the same as home, not wanting to cause offence, you being a native and all. Ellie muttered something non-committal - her input wasn't really needed in the woman's monologue - and carried on staring out of the tiny window. The city below looked unreal. From this height, Ellie couldn't see the cars, let alone the people, so everything looked like a painting, the colours muted in the grey dawn.

'So what brings you to England, dear?' her fellow passenger asked.

'I'm sorry?' Ellie said. She had so tuned out the woman that she had missed the question.

'Still a bit tired are we?' the woman said, smiling sympathetically. 'It was a very long flight, wasn't it. Now, if I had known just how long, well I wouldn't have gone, I tell you, no matter how highly Mrs Cuthbertson spoke of the place. Not that I'm saying it wasn't nice, you understand. Just not really my cup of tea, that's all.'

'I understand,' Ellie said, not really understanding at all.

'That's kind of you, dear,' the woman said. 'Now, as I was saying, what brings you all the way to England? It can't be the weather, I'll be bound.'

'No, not the weather,' Ellie agreed, watching the snow falling steadily outside. 'I'm here to spend Christmas with my gran.'

* * *

Ellie stamped her feet to rid them of the snow as she stepped into the foyer of the nursing home where her gran was an inmate. Sorry, guest. It had been early morning when she had arrived in London. Now darkness was clawing at the treetops. She had spent the better part of the day travelling and she was not impressed. She had not got a reserved seat on the train up here and, as a result, she had had to stand for three hours, crammed in amongst a mass of body odour. It was supposed to have only been a two-hour journey, but apparently the snow had blocked the line and they were stuck for an hour while they waited for the tracks to be cleared. During the wait, the guy standing next to her had tried to hit on her. Ellie had ignored him. Sure, he didn't seem so bad, but it was difficult to show any interest in anyone whose armpit had been in your face for the previous forty minutes.

Of course, the guy would have to be getting of at the same station as Ellie, wouldn't he?

'Let me give you a hand with that,' he said, offering to carry Ellie's suitcase for her.

'I canmanage,' Ellie replied, grunted with effort as she hauled the case off of the train.

'I'm sure you can,' the guy assured her, 'but my mum would never forgive me if I didn't at least offer. She raised her son properly, or so she keeps telling me.'

'I'm sure she d-did,' Ellie replied, returning his warm smile with a weak one of her own.

The train pulled away slowly and Ellie watched regretfully as it disappeared from view. For all its faults, it had been warm in there. She must have been shivering because the guy shucked off his overcoat and offered it to her.

'Here, put this on,' he said, 'before you catch your death.'

Ellie wanted to refuse, but her teeth were chattering too much for her to form the words so she meekly allowed the stranger to drape his coat over her shoulders.

'W-what about y-you,' Ellie managed.

'I'll be fine,' the guy said, rubbing his hands together vigorously. 'For a while, anyway. I'm use to this weather, but I guess it's a bit warmer where your from, am I right?'

'I'm from C-California,' Ellie replied.

'Ah, that would explain the accent.' He stuck out a hand. 'Daniel Perrault.'

'Elisabeth Walker,' Ellie replied. She looked at the hand sceptically, then thought of the coat. She shook the offered hand. 'Ellie.'

'Well, Ellie,' Daniel began, 'whereabouts are you off to?'

'I'm supposed to be going to the Searle Memorial Home,' Ellie explained. 'I figured it would be somewhere nearby.' She glanced around. 'Guess I figured wrong, huh?'

'So it would appear,' Daniel said, 'but since, by a strange coincidence, we both appear to be going to the same place, what do you say we find a taxi to take us away from all this?'

Daniel's father lived at Searle's. He suffered from Alzheimer's and needed constant supervision that Daniel simply couldn't provide at home, not if he wanted to maintain a full-time job in the city. He was Daniel's only family, though - his mother having died in a car accident when he was very young - and so he made it a point to spend every Christmas with him, even though the old man often wasn't lucid enough to realise he was there.

All of this Ellie learned from his on the taxi ride over. Daniel liked to talk, which was cool because Ellie didn't. What was that phrase? If you haven't got anything good to say, don't say anything at all. That was kind of how Ellie felt about her home life so she kept her thoughts to herself. 

Their drive took them through a forest. Naked tree branches reached across the road, intertwining with the trees opposite to form a latticework ceiling above them.

'Well, this is creepy,' Ellie remarked.

'Isn't it just,' Daniel said. 'Apparently the forest is so thick that this road is the only way to reach Searle's. The nurses tell me that the trees have to be cut back vigorously every year because they keep trying to take back even this little strip of space.'

'That's silly,' Ellie said. 'Trees don't grow that fast.'

'True, very true,' Daniel agreed, 'but when you're in the middle of all this, it does seem all too believable.'

Ellie looked at the massed ranks of trees about them. Where they moving or was that just a trick of the light? She turned away, preferring to look at Daniel than at whatever was lurking outside the safety of the car.

Eventually, they arrived at Searle's, splitting the fare between them before retrieving their luggage. Ellie looked up at the turrets and crennelations that adorned the old building.

'It's beautiful,' she said.

'Do you really think so?' Daniel asked. 'Reminds me of those haunted castles I used to read about when I was a boy. And I preferred them when they stayed on the pages of the storybooks.'

'But it's so old,' Ellie continued. 'Back home, fifty years seems like a long time ago for us. We don't have a lot of history to speak of, but this'

'Yes, I suppose this place does have rather a lot of history,' Daniel said. 'Hence the ghosts, I expect. Did you know that this used to me the mansion of Lord and Lady Searle at the end of the nineteenth century? That's where the place gets its name.'

'Really?' Ellie asked.

'Yes, really,' Daniel explained. 'You can see their coat of arms just above the door there. Um, do you mind if we go inside? I'm not wearing a coat, remember, and it is a bit on the chilly side.'

So the pair of them stepped into the foyer. A thin man dressed in a black suit briskly crossed the hallway to greet them.

'Ah, Mr Perrault,' he said. 'So good to see you again, sir. And you must be Miss Walker.'

'That's right,' Ellie said, extending a hand, 'and you are?'

'Charles Tapton, proprietor of this establishment,' the man replied, taking Ellie's hand in his. His fingers were like dry twigs and Ellie was glad when he let her go.

'We were just going to say hello to our respective relatives,' Daniel explained, 'and then go in search of somewhere to stay for the night. Is the Coach and Horses still in business?'

'Indeed it is, Mr Perrault,' Tapton replied, 'and Mr O'Grady still runs as tight a ship as ever. Still, I fear you won't be staying there tonight.'

'Really?' Ellie asked. 'Why's that?'

'Surely you've noticed the weather, Miss Walker,' Tapton explained. 'The pair of you were lucky to get her at all amid this snow. As God is my witness, you won't be going anywhere before daybreak.'

'So what exactly are we supposed to do?' Ellie demanded waspishly. She regretted her tone as soon as the words left her mouth. She could hardly blame Tapton for the weather, but something about the man rubbed her up the wrong way. And there was something vaguely familiar about him.

'Well, it just so happens, Miss Walker, that our little establishment is not at full stretch at present and I'm sure we can spare a couple of rooms for the pair of you,' Tapton replied. 'Now, why don't I show you to your father, Mr Perrault, and your grandmother, Miss Walker, and you can spend some time with them while we prepare your accommodations. And, perhaps later you might be tempted to join our Christmas festivities. They're not much, but our residents do seem to enjoy them.'

* * *

Ellie parted company with Daniel, at least temporarily, and went to visit her gran. Unfortunately, she was sleeping and, not wanting to wake her, Ellie had gone back downstairs. Following the noise, she had ended up in the common room. There was a small crowd of people gather in front of the small television set.

'It's Corrie at the moment, love,' an elderly woman said. 'If you stick around for a bit, they'll turn over for Eastenders. After that we've got The Bill.'

The woman was sitting at a table towards the back of the room. She was playing backgammon with a younger woman who cradled a baby in her arms.

'Is it any good?' Ellie asked her.

'I wouldn't know,' the woman replied. 'I've got to teach this slip of a thing how to play properly so I can't watch it.'

'Now, Nana, if you wanted to watch the telly you only had to ask,' the younger woman said.

'I never said I wanted to watch it, Violet, just that I couldn't,' 'Nana' said. 'Wash your ears out before interrupting next time.'

Nana rolled the dice and moved two of her counters.

'That's better,' she declared.

'Yes, Nana,' Violet said, 'but you only rolled five so you should be there.'

She moved a counter back a space.

'Are you telling me I can't count now, girl?' Nana snapped. 'I may be old, but I'm still as sharp as they come. And I say that tile should be there.'

She moved the counter back to where it had been previously.

'Yes, Nana,' Violet said, giving Ellie a what-can-you-do look.

Ellie smiled in sympathy.

'And don't think I can't see the two of you conspiring behind my back either,' Nana said. 'Well, girl, what are you doing here anyway?'

'Who me?' Ellie asked.

'How many other people do you see around here, hm?' Nana demanded, pointed her walking-stick at Ellie. 'Now speak up and quickly. Some of us aren't going to be around for that much longer.'

'Well, I came here to see my Gran,' Ellie explained, wilting before Nana's interrogation. 'She stayed behind when the rest of my folks moved to California - this was before I was born - and now she's too ill to come and join us so she's kinda stuck here.'

'Kinda? What sort of language is that?' Nana scoffed. 'Never mind, just carry on and do your best to limit those disgusting Americanisms.'

'People don't visit Gran much,' Ellie explained. 'She's beenforgotten about, I guess you could say.'

'Forgotten about,' Nana echoed, 'but not by you.'

'No,' Ellie admitted. 'This year I thought I'd spend Christmas with her.'

'That's very kind of you, child,' Nana said, 'but where's your mother in all of this?'

'Mom'swell, she's busy.'

'Busy? Busy is she? I just bet she is,' Nana said.

'Nana, you shouldn't judge people so,' Violet warned her.

'Shouldn't I?' Nana asked. 'It's not as if there's much else to do around here. So you're here to visit your poor old grandmama, are you, child? A girl paying a visit to her grandmother. That puts me in mind of a story, so it does. Would you like to hear it?'

'Why not,' Ellie remarked, sitting down in the empty seat. 'It's not as if I'm going anywhere.'

'Good girl,' Nana said. 'Now, there was this girl who was bringing food to her grandmother who lived at the heart of a wood and, while she was on her way, a wolf approached her and asked her where she was bound. 'To Grandmother's house,' the girl replied.'

'I think I may have heard this story before,' Ellie said.

'Then it won't hurt you to hear it again,' Nana snapped angrily.

The baby in Violet's arms started to cry.

'I think she needs changing,' Violet said, standing up. 'Don't go moving the pieces while I'm gone.'

'Why, the cheek,' Nana exclaimed at Violet's retreating back. 'She doesn't really need changing, you know. Violet just wants an excuse to nip outside for a fag. They don't allow smoking in here, you see, but I know one of the nurses who'll smuggle me in cigarette's if I ask nicely. Now, where were we?'

'The girl had told the wolf she was going to Grandmother's house,' Ellie supplied.

'I know that, child,' Nana said. 'You think I need you to tell me my own story, hm?

'So the wolf asked the girl whether she was going by the path of pins or the path of needles.

''The path of needles,' the girl replied.

'So the wolf ran off on the path of pins and arrived before the girl and he killed the poor old grandmother. He poured her blood into a bottle, sliced up her flesh and put it on a plate, then dressed in her nightclothes and waited in the bed. There was a knock at the door and the girl came inside.

''I have brought you some food, Grandmother,' she said.

''That's very kind of you,' the wolf replied. 'Why don't you have something yourself. There is meat and wine in the pantry.' And the little girl went and ate what was offered. 

'Then the wolf said, 'undress and get into bed with me, my darling.' 

'The little girl hesitated. 'But where shall I put my apron?' she asked. 

''Throw it on the fire,' the wolf replied. 'You won't be needing it anymore.'

'And so for her bodice, skirt, petticoat and all, the girl asked the same question and each time the wolf replied, 'throw it on the fire, you won't need it anymore.' 

'When the girl got into bed, she said, 'Grandmother, how hairy you are.'

''It keeps me warm, my dear,' the wolf replied.

''Oh grandmother,' the girl continued, 'what long nails you have.'

''They are for scratching myself, my darling,' the wolf explained.

''And Grandmother,' the little girl said finally, 'what big teeth you have.'

'And the wolf grinned and then he ate her.'

There was silence for a moment. Even the noise from the TV seemed muted.

'That'sthat's horrible,' Ellie said at last.

Nana shrugged. 'That's life, love.'

Ellie got up.

'Don't you want to hear another story?' Nana asked. 'When you get to my age, you have hundreds.'

'Maybe later,' Ellie said, trying to polite while wanting to put as much distance between herself and the old woman as possible. Smiling weakly, she hurried of into the next room.

The next room turned out to be a library.

'Hello again, Miss Walker,' Tapton said.

Ellie jumped. She had not noticed him sitting in a chair by the fire.

'I'm sorry, Miss Walker,' he said, 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'That's okay, you didn't,' Ellie lied.

Tapton inclined his head. 'As you say. What do you make of our little collection?'

'It's veryimpressive,' Ellie managed, taking in the shelves of musty books.

'Isn't it just,' Tapton agreed. 'Unfortunately, few of our residents our great readers so most of these books are criminally neglected. Perhaps you would like to help yourself to a volume?'

Ellie didn't need any further prompting and reached for a slim book bound in red leather. Opening it up, she frowned. It seemed to be a diary of some sort, written in pencil. The handwriting was tricky to interpret. It's almost as bad as mine, Ellie thought to herself. She started to read the first page.

'Granma gave me this book for my birthday. She said I should try to keep notes on the things I do and it gives me a chance to practice me letters. Me mam was keen for me to learn, before I passed away, but there is not much call for a maid what can right in Mr Searle's house.'

Mr Searle's house? Did she Lord Searle, Ellie wondered. Did the writer of this diary live in this house?

'It's Christmas Eve and Mrs Baxter is making her famous plum pudding. She lets me help, even though Mr Wilkie (he's the butler) tells me that I am just a maid and should know my place. But Mrs Baxter likes me and she is teaching me her secret recipe so that maybe one day I can be a cook just like her. I should like that very much, I think. Not that I mind being a maid. The Searles treat me very well and, so long as I do as I am told, so does Mr Wilkie.'

There followed a lengthy description on how to make the perfect plum pudding, which Ellie really was not interested in, so she skipped ahead. It appeared that Lord and Lady Searle were holding a Christmas Eve party.

'I hide behind the door as Mr Wilkie announces the guests. I know I should not really be there. My place is in the kitchen washing the dishes, but I am so excited that I have to know what is going on. I sit as still as I can, looking through the gap in the door as the guests arrive.

'First is the Reverend Patton. I do not think that I would like him were I to meet him, not that I ever would. He looks down his nose at everybody, including Mr Searle. Major Warren seems much nicer. He is always smiling beneath his thick red whiskers and his laugh echoes in the hall. And he slapped Mr Wilkie on the back when he arrived and Mr Wilkie did not like that at all. The next two guests are Lucius Morton and his wife Tabitha (Mrs Baxter helped me spell the names) and they are followed by Sir Charles Appleton and his daughter, Mary-Anne. Sir Charles looks very sad and that is a shame what with it being Christmas and all. I do not think he wants to be here. His daughter is very happy, dancing around the room and singing to herself as she does so.

''Is this everyone?' Mr Morton asks.

''I believe we are still waiting for one more guest, sir,' Mr Wilkie replies. The way he talks to the people above stairs is so different to the way he talks to us in the kitchens.

'There is a knocking at the door and Mr Wilkie goes to answer it. He returns with a man with long, wavy brown hair. He wears a green coat that I think looks nice, but he does not seem as well-dressed as the others. I think they see this too because the way they look at him is not so kindly. Except for Mary-Anne who I do not think knows he is there.

'Doctor John Smith,' Mr Wilkie says.

'Am I late?' Dr Smith asks. 'Sorry about that, but you know how these things are. Or maybe not. Is this all of us?'

''Yes, sir,' Mr Wilkie tells him. 'Just the seven of you. Not counting Lord and Lady Searle, of course.'

''Seven of us plus you, Wilkie,' Dr Smith says. 'No, no, that's not right. I count eight.'

''My apologies, sir,' Mr Wilkie says, 'but I do believe you are mistaken.'

''Am I?' Dr Smith asks. 'Well, it wouldn't be the first time, I grant you. But in this case, I rather think I may be correct.'

'I stumble back as Dr Smith throws open the door I am hiding behind.

''And who have we here, hm?' Dr Smith asks, smiling at me.

'Mr Wilkie is not smiling. 'It is just the maid, sir.'

''Just the maid?' Dr Smith says. 'Just the maid? And does just the maid have a name. Well, speak up girl?'

'Mr Wilkie has told me not to speak to the people above stairs. It is not my place. But I cannot refuse to do as Dr Smith asked, can I? So I tell him my name.

'Ellie Walker.'


	2. Episode Two

_'I stumble back as Dr Smith throws open the door I am hiding behind._

_''And who have we here, hm?' Dr Smith asks, smiling at me._

_'Mr Wilkie is not smiling. 'It is just the maid, sir.'_

_''Just the maid?' Dr Smith says. 'Just the maid? And does just the maid have a name. Well, speak up girl?'_

_'Mr Wilkie has told me not to speak to the people above stairs. It is not my place. But I cannot refuse to do as Dr Smith asks, can I? So I tell him my name._

_'Ellie Walker.'_

__

_It is a tale_

_Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,_

_Signifying nothing_

Macbeth, Shakespeare

Ellie snapped the book shut.

'Is everything all right, Miss Walker?' Tapton asked.

'Yes, yes,' Ellie said hurriedly. 'Everything's fine.'

It felt as if someone had just walked over her grave. It felt as if _she_ had just walked over her own grave.

'I'm just going to go for a walk,' she told Tapton, replacing the book on the shelf.

'Very good,' Tapton said, 'but don't wander too far. Dinner is served at eight sharp.'

Daniel spotted Ellie as he descended the stairs.

'Hello again,' he called out, quickening his pace to catch up with her.

'Hi,' Ellie responded. 'I was going to get some fresh air.' She paused. 'You can join me if you like.'

They stepped out into the cold. Ellie wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

'So,' she began, 'how was your dad?'

'Garrulous,' Daniel said, forcing a smile, 'as usual. Just not very coherent.'

The smile faded.

'I'm sorry,' Ellie offered.

'I'd just feel better if I knew that he knew was there,' Daniel continued. 'That I wasn't wasting my time coming here.'

'He knows,' Ellie assured him. 'I'm sure some part of him really does know. And appreciates you being there for him.'

'Thanks,' Daniel said. 'I'm being silly, aren't I?'

'No,' Ellie said. 'No, you're not.'

'Oh yes he is.'

The new voice caused both Ellie and Daniel to look up with a start. It was Nana. She was sharing a cigarette with Violet, while the baby slept quietly in its pram.

'You don't really think that he's here for his father, do you?' Nana mocked. 'Boy comes here every Christmas not because he wants to be with the old man, but because he's afraid.'

'Afraid?' Ellie echoed.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Daniel insisted.

'Of course you don't,' Nana sneered. 'And I suppose you don't come here every year because you're afraid that, if you father's head should clear - not that that's very likely - and he sees that your _not_ there then the old man might cut you out of his will.'

'Nana!' Violet exclaimed, scandalised.

'Oh come now, child,' Nana said, 'you don't seriously expect me to still my tongue for propriety's sake, do you? I've been doing that for far too many years already and look where it's got me, eh? Truth will out. It always does in the end.'

'But that's not true!' Daniel said.

'Isn't it?' Nana asked.

'Come on, Daniel,' Ellie said, 'let's go back inside.'

She glared at Nana who merely shrugged.

'You've a good heart, girl,' Nana said, 'but you're young and naïve and far, far too trusting. It will be your undoing, you mark my words.'

* * *

'What she said, it's not true,' Daniel insisted.

They had retreated to the common room and had found space on a brown corduroy sofa. The cover had come apart at one arm and pieces of yellow foam were struggling to escape.

'I know it's not, Daniel,' Ellie said.

The common room was crowded. Those people who had been playing bingo in the dining-room had now been forced in here while the dining-room was made ready for dinner. Ellie glanced about her even as she patted Daniel's arm as comfortingly as she dared. This place made her uncomfortable. She had thought that in Daniel she had found a friend with whom she could shelter from the worst of it, but, now that he had crumbled, Ellie felt more exposed than ever. Even the slow tick-tock of the grandfather clock seemed ominous. The people here were simply marking time, playing bingo without prizes because there was nothing that would be of value to them any more or sitting in front of the television because there was little point in moving anywhere else. Ellie could almost smell the decay in the air. Everyone here knew that the end was coming, it was simply a question of when.

Ellie found herself wishing that Abigail were there. She would have found some humour in the situation and punctured Ellie's morbid reverie, but Abby wasn't there and thoughts of her only made Ellie feel even more alone in the crowded room.

'Penny for them,' Daniel said.

'Sorry, what?' Ellie said, snapping her attention back to him.

'Your thoughts,' Daniel explained. 'Penny for them.'

'Just thinking about back home,' Ellie told him.

'Anyone in particular?' Daniel asked. 'Boyfriend maybe?'

'No, no boyfriend,' Ellie replied, rolling her eyes.

'Really?' Daniel leaned slightly towards her, his eyes sparkling.

Ellie pulled away from him.

'Daniel,' she said. Then she shook her head.

Daniel deflated, sinking deeper into the sofa's cushions. The light in his eyes dimmed.

'I'm sorry,' Ellie said before getting up and walking away.

* * *

She found herself in the library. She hadn't intended to end up there, hadn't really had any specific destination in mind. She just wanted to lose herself for a bit and where better, she supposed, than in a book. And in one book in particular.

She took the diary from its shelf, settled herself in a chair and began to read.

* * *

I was shaking. I was not used to all of these important people staring at me.

'Have no fear, sir,' Mr Wilkie says. 'I will see that she is disciplined.'

'No,' Dr Smith says. 'I do not want her punished. A healthy curiosity can be a wonderful thing.'

'As you wish, sir,' Mr Wilkie says.

I do not think Mr Wilkie liked Dr Smith's instruction and Dr Smith must have seen that as well.

'Wilkie,' he says, 'if you do lay a finger on Miss Walker here you may consider your employment here at an end.'

'And here I thought I was master of this house,' Mr Searle says.

I had not noticed him arrive. Neither did many of the guests and they jumped as he approached. Mr Searle is a tall figure and would be frightening were it not for his friendly face. In the few times I have seen him he has always smiled at me. Mrs Searle does not smile.

Mr Wilkie makes himself taller.

'Very good, sir,' he says. 'I was about to escort the maid back to the kitchens.'

'Wilkie,' Mr Searle says. His voice, as always, is warm, but it freezes Mr Wilkie to the spot. 'Dr Smith may not be master of this house, but that does not mean that his views are without merit. The maid is not to be disciplined. This time.'

Mr Searle turns to me and I feel as if I am getting smaller and smaller. He smiles and I cannot help smiling back.

'Run along now, girl,' he says and I hurry back to the kitchen and Mrs Baxter.

* * *

Claire has been hit by fever and can not leave her bed. She should be helping to serve the guests their Christmas meal, but she cannot so Mr Wilkie asks me to do it. I cannot believe that I am going to be allowed above stairs again. Mr Wilkie is not as pleased as I am.

'Mind yourself, girl,' he says to me. 'These are important friends of his lordship and I will not have you make him look a fool.'

'I will do my very best, sir,' I promise him.

Mr Wilkie offers me a smile.

'Good girl,' he says. 'Do a good job of this and I might forget to punish you for your earlier indiscretion.'

'But Dr Smith said' I begin.

'Hold your tongue,' Mr Wilkie snaps. 'Don't you go forgetting who is really in charge down here.'

I hang my head.

'Good girl,' Mr Wilkie says again.

There are two of us, Molly and me, and we have to serve all of the guests. We bring big silver trays up from the kitchens and put them down on the long table. It is a very long table and it is covered in a thick red cloth. And on the cloth there are plates and glasses and so many candles. Is this how they eat their meals above stairs? There seems too much of everything, even for Mr and Mrs Searle and for all their guests. I am watching Molly closely and, seeing that she does not say a word about this huge spread, I do not neither. Then Molly and I go to stand by the door. We stand very still and wait for the guests to finish their meal.

Mr and Mrs Searle sit at the ends of the table. Mrs Searle is very pretty, but she is very cold. She has never once smiled at me. 

Major Warren, Reverend Patton and Dr Smith sit on one side of the table. The reverend does not say much. He picks at his food and watches the others. Major Warren loves his food and is happy to tell the others so. His beard is soon stained by Mrs Baxter's cranberry sauce. The reverend glares at him from time to time.

On the other side of the table are Mr and Mrs Morton, Sir Charles Appleton and Mary-Anne Appleton. Lucius Morton leans across his wife to speak to Mary-Anne.

'What is the matter, little one?' he says. 'You are not eating. A pretty young thing like you needs to keep up her strength.'

Mary-Anne looks at the slices of goose on her plate. They look very tasty and I know that they are because Mrs Baxter let me try some when I was helping her in the kitchen.

'I knew a goose once,' Mary-Anne says. Her voice comes from a long way away. 'She told pretty stories. I know we devour stories, but we do we have to devour those that tell them?'

Mr Morton laughs, but I think that his laughter is cruel because Mary-Anne is crying. 

'There, there,' says Mrs Morton, putting and arm around Mary-Anne.

'Stop that at once,' Sir Charles says to his daughter. 'I'll hear no more of your fantasies. Let me tell you a true tale about birds that tell stories. 

'There is a rook that lands in the middle of a field and it stands there all alone. Then, one by one, other rooks arrive, but they do not join the solitary rook. Instead they form a circle round it. One by one they gather until that one rook is surrounded by quite a crowd. And all the birds are silent. And then the rook in the centre begins to speak and it caws out the tale that it has spent many, many days preparing beforehand. And when its tale is done, all is quiet again while the parliament of rooks sits in judgement upon the storyteller. And, if they do not like what they have heard then they fall upon the bird and peck it to death. Woe betide a storyteller not worth his salt.'

'Sir Charles,' Mrs Morton protests, rocking Mary-Anne in her arms, 'is that any kind of story to tell your daughter?'

'It's way past time the little mite grew up,' Sir Charles replied. 'Always got her head in the clouds, that one.'

'I do not have my head in the clouds,' Mary-Anne protests. 'If I did then I wouldn't be able to see because of all the white. But I can see you and you and you. Unless you _are_ clouds. But anyway, I would need a neck like a giraffe, only longer, and my neck is not like a giraffe.'

Mary-Anne turns to Mrs Morton.

'He said I have a neck like a giraffe,' she says.

'Come with me, child,' Mrs Morton says, taking Mary-Anne by the hand. 'I don't think this is the best place for you.'

'Wilkie will show you to her room,' Mr Searle says.

Mrs Morton nods to him and then sweeps out of the room, her long black dress and Mary-Anne trailing behind her.

'It would appear our party is not going as smoothly as we hoped, is it, my dear,' Mr Searle says to his wife.

'It may not be going as _you_ hoped, husband,' Mrs Searle replied, 'but it is going exactly as I expected.'

'Perhaps a story will raise our spirits,' Mr Searle says. 

'Something less bloodthirsty than Sir Charles' offering, I hope,' Mr Morton says.

'Indeed, Lucius,' Mr Searle agrees, 'John, would you care to oblige us?'

Dr Smith runs a hand through his brown hair.

'Well,' he begins, 'only if you promise not to peck me to death at the end of it.'

Mr Morton grins at him. 

'Only because you asked so nicely, Doctor,' he says.

Dr Smith sits up straighter in his chair. I am drawn in closer, not wanting to miss any of his story, but I notice Molly's warning stare and retreat back to the wall. I hope Mr Wilkie did not notice my error.

'Are we all sitting comfortably?' Dr Smith asks. 'Then I'll begin.

'Once upon a time, there was a large house on the coast of Scotland and in that house there lived a man. What shall we call him? How about Sir Charles?'

Sir Charles Appleton scowls at this, but Major Warren laughs loudly.

'Now Sir Charles lived all alone in his big, dark house and, presumably to alleviate the boredom, he would often take long walks down by the beach. On one of these walks he saw a beautiful woman standing on the cliff top and his heart skipped a beat. His breath caught in his throat as she threw herself from the cliff and dived beneath the surf. And when she emerged again, she was no longer a woman. Instead, she was a seal. And does anybody here know what that means?'

'It means that she was a Selkie, Doctor,' Mrs Searle tells him. 'We are not stupid. These little diversions in your narrative are not amusing, as you seem to believe, simply patronising and I for one find them extremely tedious.'

'My apologies, Lady Searle,' Dr Smith says. 'Sir Charles knew that she was a Selkie as well and he knew that she could be his if only he could steal her shawl, the magic of which allowed her to transform herself into a seal. So he watched and he waited and his walks became all the more frequent and, finally, he came upon her sleeping and he snatched away her shawl before she could wake.

''Where is my shawl?' the Selkie cried on waking.

''I have your shawl,' Sir Charles told her, 'and if you wish to have it back then you will marry me for I have been watching you for some time now and I fear that you have stolen my heart.'

'Now the Selkie had no wish to marry Sir Charles, but without the shawl she was nothing and she gave in to his demands. But Sir Charles did not return her shawl. Instead, he locked it in a heavy iron chest, the key to which never left his person. The Selkie and Sir Charles lived together in the large dark house for many years and Sir Charles took his pleasure with her whenever he desired, which was often and, before too long, she bore him twins, two beautiful girls with hair spun from moonlight and eyes the colour of the sea in a storm. This long captivity took its toll on the Selkie. She was a creature of the oceans, not meant to be bound on land. And she begged Sir Charles to let her return to the sea, but her promises to return fell on deaf ears for Sir Charles was too afraid of losing his most treasured possession.

'However, to trap a Selkie is no small thing and one should be prepared to face the consequences. Winter herself was so incensed by the treatment of her beloved daughter that she chose to wage war on that large dark house. She assailed the house with winds, but Sir Charles sealed and barred the doors. She struck with rain, flooding the lower floor of the house, but Sir Charles simply relocated his living-space upstairs. She hammered the house with hail, smashing through the windows as if they were not there. But deep within the large, dark house was a room with no windows, so Sir Charles, his wife and their children hid in their, safe from the hail and the wind and the rain.

'So finally, Winter reached in with her fingers of cold. And Sir Charles shivered. She touched him with her frost and he shook. Ice formed on his skin and his limbs froze and then the Selkie prized the key from his fingertips, went to the chest and retrieved her shawl. Without a word of goodbye, she fled the castle and returned to the ocean.

'Winter retreated, her work done, and Sir Charles could move no more. But he found he had no wish to. He still had his children, but without his wife the spark had gone from his life and he saw little reason to move from his window-less room. Years passed, and still Sir Charles would not go out. The children cared for the father, seeing to his every need, but he was a mere shadow of a man. That which had made him complete had been taken from him.

'And then the Selkie returned.

'She had wanted to stay away. Sir Charles had wounded her deeply and she wished to do the same to him, but, deep in her heart, she knew that his acts, however base, had been driven by love for her and, during that long time she had served him, she had, reluctantly, developed a certain fondness for him and, perhaps, something more.

''I have come back to you,' she said to Sir Charles, 'but if I am to stay then you must do as I ask.'

''Anything,' Sir Charles told her.

''You must swear never to take my shawl from me,' the Selkie said, 'and you must let me come and go as I please for the ocean is my true home.'

''I swear it,' Sir Charles said, for to see his bride again, if only for a brief time, was infinitely preferable to not seeing her at all.

'And so the Selkie, the man and their children became a family once more. Could it last? Who can say? I would not dare. Instead I shall leave the outcome of the story your hands, dear listener. Let their fates be as your imaginings.'

'Bravo!' Major Warren roars.

'Sentimental claptrap,' Sir Charles remarks.

'You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you, Sir Charles,' Mr Morton says, 'not like our good doctor here.'

'Another story,' Major Warren demands. If I was not compelled to keep silent, I would be saying the same.

Dr Smith waves away the praise. 

'Later, perhaps,' he says.

Molly and I clear away the goose, the vegetables and the potatoes and then we return bearing Mrs Baxter's plum pudding. The pudding is so large that Molly and I both must hold the tray. Mr Wilkie has set the pudding alight and I am afraid that the flame will burn my hair. Mr Wilkie tells me not to be so silly. The pudding is sliced and all the guests are given a generous portion.

'This is very good,' Doctor Smith says, taking a bite. 'My compliments to your cook.'

'Mrs Baxter's plum pudding is a highlight of the year,' Mr Searle says.

I agree. It is a highlight for me too because Mrs Baxter lets me lick the spoon clean when she is done.

'You must ask your Mrs Baxter to pass on the recipe to my own cook,' Major Warren says.

'Ah, but then what incentive would you have to come join me for Christmas, Major,' Mr Searle points out.

Sir Charles coughs.

'Too rich for you, Sir Charles?' Mr Morton asks.

Sir Charles' face is going very red. He hands claw at his throat and he is trying to breathe, but cannot. His eyes bulge, and look to me as if they will burst from his head like two pickled eggs, but they do not. Instead, Sir Charles makes one final, rattling moan and collapses, face first, into his pudding dish.

Dr Smith is on his feet and at Sir Charles' side in moments, but he is too late.

Sir Charles is dead.


	3. Episode Three

_The pudding is sliced and all the guests are given a generous portion._

_'This is very good,' Doctor Smith says, taking a bite. 'My compliments to your cook.'_

_'Mrs Baxter's plum pudding is a highlight of the year,' Mr Searle says._

_I agree. It is a highlight for me too because Mrs Baxter lets me lick the spoon clean when she is done._

_'You must ask your Mrs Baxter to pass on the recipe to my own cook,' Major Warren says._

_'Ah, but then what incentive would you have to come join me for Christmas, Major,' Mr Searle points out._

_Sir Charles coughs._

_'Too rich for you, Sir Charles?' Mr Morton asks._

_Sir Charles' face is going very red. He hands claw at his throat and he is trying to breathe, but cannot. His eyes bulge, and look to me as if they will burst from his head like two pickled eggs, but they do not. Instead, Sir Charles makes one final, rattling moan and collapses, face first, into his pudding dish._

_Dr Smith is on his feet and at Sir Charles' side in moments, but he is too late._

_Sir Charles is dead._

_Death lies on her like an untimely frost_

_Upon the sweetest flower of all the field._

Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

Ellie's reading was interrupted by the sound of a gong. Someone somewhere was hammering enthusiastically on it and its low note reverberated throughout the building. Tapton stuck his head around the library door.

'Ah, I thought I might find you in here, Miss Walker,' he said. 'Dinner, as they say, is served.'

Using her body to shield the diary from Tapton's view, she slipped the book into her bag and then allowed him to escort her to the dining-room.

'We've got you sitting here,' Tapton explained.

The usual small tables had been arranged end-to-end to form two long tables running the length of the room. Tapton led Ellie to a chair need the end of one of the tables. Her name had been hand-written on a piece of card that stood on her plate. Like a gentleman, Tapton pulled out a chair for her so that she could sit down. Then, once she was comfortable, he made his excuses and went to take his place at the other table.

'Cracker?'

Ellie looked up. Violet was sitting next to her brandishing a Christmas cracker.

'Okay,' Ellie said, taking hold of the other end of the cracker. They pulled and there was a loud snap as the cracker broke. Violet had ended up with most of it and Ellie was left holding only the very end.

'What did you win?' Ellie asked Violet, who was emptying the cracker's contents onto the table.

Violet held up a yellow plastic ring.

'Impressive,' Ellie said and Violet grinned, slipping it on to her finger.

'What do you think?' she asked.

'Very stylish,' Ellie replied.

'Speaking of stylish,' Violet countered, 'this is for you. I've already got one.'

She thrust a paper hat into Ellie's hands. The hat was half red, half green. Very Christmassy.

'I don't think so,' Ellie said, trying to give the hat back.

'Oh go on,' Violet pressed. 'Everyone else is wearing them.'

It was true. Reluctantly, Ellie put on the hat.

'There's a joke too,' Violet continued.

'Spare us,' Ellie muttered.

Violet unfurled the rolled up piece of paper.

'Who hides in the bakery at Christmas?' she read. 'A mince spy!'

Ellie rolled her eyes.

The first course was melon. Ellie was surprised at how hungry she was, but, on reflection, she supposed that she shouldn't have been. Since getting off of the plane all she had had were a up of black coffee - the kind that could strip paint - and a sandwich on a station platform. After the melon, it was, of course, turkey. The meat was dry, so Ellie smothered her portion with gravy from a plastic jug on the table. 

'I suppose I should apologise for Nana,' Violet said as she shovelled sprouts on to her plate.

'There's no need,' Ellie assured her.

'No, I think there is,' Violet insisted. 'She's not normally so rude.'

'Isn't she?' Ellie asked.

'Well, all right, maybe she is,' Violet admitted. 'But she's a really nice person when you get to know her.'

'She hardly seems to encourage people to get close to her,' Ellie pointed out.

'I know,' Violet conceded, 'butwell, it's part of who she is.'

'Part of who she is?' Ellie echoed, slicing a roast potato and then coating it in gravy.

'Yes,' Violet confirmed. 'Tell me, have you heard the story of the fox and the scorpion?'

'No,' Ellie admitted, 'I can't say that I have.'

'Really?' Violet's eyes widened. 'Well, it goes something like this. One day, a fox was out for a walk and, having crossed a field, it arrived at the bank of a wide river. Sitting on the bank was a scorpion.

''What are you doing here, little scorpion?' asked the fox.

''I wish to cross the river,' the scorpion replied, 'but I cannot swim.'

'Then a thought suddenly occurred to the scorpion.

''You can swim, can you not, Mr Fox,' she said. 'Would you consider carrying me across the river on your back?'

''It would give me great pleasure to be of assistance to you, little scorpion,' the fox responded, 'but I fear that once you are on my back that you will sting me and then I will surely die.'

''I would not sting you, Mr Fox,' the scorpion insisted, 'for if I did so while you were carrying me across the river then I would drown.'

''That is true,' the fox agreed. 'Very well, little scorpion, climb up on my back and I will bear you to the other side.'

'So the scorpion scuttled up on to the fox's back and held on tightly to his thick orange fur. With one last look back the way he had come, the fox padded down to the water's edge. He tested the water with his paw. It was cold, but not so bad that that he would not be able to cross so he dived in to the river and began to paddle his way across.

'When they were halfway across, the scorpion plunged her sting deep into the fox's flesh.

''Little scorpion, you have killed me,' the fox said with his dying breath, 'but now you will die also for you will drown beneath the water. Why have you done this thing?'

''I could not help it,' the scorpion replied. 'It is my nature.''

Ellie was breathing quickly and she felt flushed. She closed her eyes and playing behind their lids she saw Abigail, her glassy eyes staring reproachfully at her from beneath the water.

Ellie shoved back her chair and stood up. The chair's legs scraped across the floor.

'Where are you going?' Violet asked.

'In search of a happy ending,' Ellie muttered before stalking from the room.

* * *

She made her way to her grandmother's room. The old woman was still asleep, her hands folded above her breasts. The only indication she was still alive was her gentle rise and fall as she breathed.

'Hiya, Gran,' Ellie said softly. 'It's me, Ellie. You granddaughter.'

Ellie pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down in it. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands.

'You probably don't remember me, Gran,' she continued. 'I don't know as we ever met. But I feel like I know you, you know? Mom used to tell me stories about you, when I was small. I think they were supposed to frighten me into growing up into a good little girl. Mom didn't approve of you, Gran, but I thought you were funny. Funny and brave and clever. And you had adventures, Gran, while the most exciting part of my day was the ride to and from school. I wanted to grow up to be just like you. Maybe that's why Mom and I don't get on anymore. Part of it, anyway.'

There was a gentle knock on the open door. Tapton was standing in the doorway.

'My apologies for intruding, Miss Walker,' he said, 'but you left dinner so suddenly and I was concerned.'

'Thanks,' Ellie said. 'That's sweet of you. But I'm fine. Really.'

'If you are sure' Tapton turned to go, but paused on the threshold. 'I have to askit wasn't the food, by any chance, was it?'

Elllie laughed.

'No, Mr Tapton, it wasn't the food,' she assured.

'Good,' Tapton said. 'The cook was most distraught, you know.'

'It just brought back some old memories, that's all,' Ellie confessed.

'I understand, Miss Walker,' Tapton comforted her. 'When one gets to my age, one has more memories than one quite knows what to do with. And there are several I wouldn't mind doing away with altogether.'

'I'll drink to that,' Ellie agreed. 'How long have you worked here, Mr Tapton? If you don't mind me asking, that is.'

'I don't mind one bit, Miss Walker,' Tapton replied. 'When one is surrounded by the elderly and infirm day in and day out, it is always a pleasure to get a chance to converse with the younger generation. And, in answer to you question, I can't quite remember exactly how long I've been at Searle's, but it feels like a lifetime. Sometimes it feels like more than one.'

'You must have some stories you could tell,' Ellie remarked.

'One or two,' Tapton confirmed. 'One or two.'

'Maybe we could get together later and you could tell me some,' Ellie suggested.

'I think I would like that, Miss Walker,' Tapton said. 'I think I would like that quite a bit. Now, I shall leave you and you grandmother in peace.'

Tapton closed the door behind him when he left.

'You know, for a ghoul I think Mr Tapton's all right,' Ellie whispered. 'What about you, Gran?'

She ran a hand through her hair and realised that she was still wearing her party hat. She took it off and began to fold it in her hands.

'It's just typical,' she said. 'I come here because I think that maybe I can talk to you, that maybe out of all this crappy family, you, the one relative I've never met, might understand me and all you can do is sleep through my visit. Thanks a lot, Gran. Well, you've got to wake up some time, right? And I plan to be here when you do. So there.'

Readying herself for a long wait, Ellie settled back in her chair, took the diary from her pocket and began to read.

* * *

Sir Charles had choked on the sixpence Mrs Baxter had added to the plum pudding mixture. The one who found the sixpence would be lucky. That was what she had told me. Dr Smith fishes the sixpence out of Sir Charles' throat, but it is too late for him. The silver coin shines in the candlelight. It is difficult for me to believe that something so small could kill a man.

Reverend Patton goes to stand by the body of Sir Charles.

'This is a terrible, terrible accident,' Mr Searle says.

'Yes,' Dr Smith says. 'An accident. Perhaps the women would be better in another room?'

'I think that you will find that I am the equal of any man, Dr Smith,' Mrs Searle says, standing up.

'And the maids?' Dr Smith asks.

'Are just maids,' Mrs Searle replied.

'Isabella,' Mr Searle says, 'perhaps Dr Smith has a point. Molly, Ellie, would you wait outside, please.'

Both Molly and I hurry out of the room. I am glad to get away and Molly looks happier as well. A short time passes and Dr Smith joins us in the corridor. He speaks to Molly and then walks over to me.

'Ellie, isn't it?' he says.

'Yes, sir,' I replied.

'How are you feeling, Ellie?'

'Sir?'

'That must have been quite distressing for you,' he says. 'I know it was for me.'

'I did not like it, sir, if that is what you mean,' I reply.

'I doubt Sir Charles liked it much either,' Dr Smith mutters. 'Tell me, Ellie, was this your first time waiting at table?'

'Yes, sir.' His smile makes me bold so I add, 'Did it show?'

'A little,' Dr Smith tells me, 'but only a little.'

'Claire has a fever,' I say, 'so Mr Wilkie said I had to do her work tonight.'

'Perhaps I should take a look at Claire,' Dr Smith says. 'After all, I am a doctor.'

* * *

Dr Smith closes Claire's eyes.

'What is wrong with her?' I ask.

'She's just sleeping,' Dr Smith says. I do not believe him.

He puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes.

'Do you see those marks?' he asks. He points to some red lines on Claire's cheek. On a normal day, Claire is full of life and her cheeks are red as roses. Now her skin is pale and white and the marks are easy for me to see.

'They look like claw marks,' Dr Smith says. I think he is talking to himself and not to me. 'I wonder.'

* * *

I walk with Dr Smith back to the dining-room. Mr Searle is arguing with Mrs Morton in the corridor. 

'We have to tell her,' Mr Searle is saying.

'Not now,' Mrs Morton says. 'Not tonight.'

'But he's her father,' Mr Searle says.

'And she's just a little girl,' Mrs Morton replies. 'And it is Christmas Eve. Tell her that he's sleeping for now. It will be difficult enough for her without ruining this as well.'

'I suppose that you are right,' Mr Searle says.

'Am I interrupting?' Dr Smith asks as he walks towards them.

'Not at all,' Mr Searle tells him. 'We are gathering in the drawing-room. It is time to give presents.'

I have to wait outside, but Dr Smith is the last guest to enter the drawing-room and he leaves the door open just enough that I am able to see inside. He winks at me before sitting down in a large armchair. Major Warren is smoking a fat cigar and I can smell the smoke from where I am hiding. I do not like it very much, but I want to see what is going to happen too much for me to leave now.

Mrs Searle is holding baby Alice in her arms.

'As you all know, the reason we are all here tonight is to celebrate Alice's first Christmas,' Mr Searle says.

'Indeed,' Reverend Patton says, 'and part of Christmas is the giving of gifts. I hope that you will accept this small token on Alice's behalf.'

He passes a book to Mr Searle. It is thick and heavy and covered with dust.

'It is but a trifle,' Reverend Patton says, 'but it represents my hope that young Alice will grow up to be both intelligent and wise.'

As Reverend Patton stands up to give Mr Searle the book, he passes in front of the fire. The light from the fire twists his shadow and I shiver as I look at the hunch-backed silhouette spread across the floor.

'Can I go next?' Mary-Anne asks. She is sitting on the floor at Mrs Morton's feet. 'Please say I can go next.'

Mr Searle kneels down so that he is the same height as Mary-Anne.

'And what have you brought for Alice, Mary-Anne?' he asks.

Mary-Anne gives him the ballet shoes that she has been hiding behind her back.

'I brought these for her because I hope that she will be graceful and a dancer,' she explains. 'I'm not a dancer. I've got two left feet. No, really I have. This one is backwards. I'll show you.'

She starts to take off her own shoe, but Mrs Morton stops her.

'We believe you, dear,' she says.

'You do?' Mary-Anne asks. 'Well, that's all right then.'

'I brought her a dress,' Mrs Morton says, 'in the hope that what Alice wears will be as beautiful as she will grow up to be.'

It was a very pretty dress.

'And I brought her this,' Major Warren announces. He is holding a bottle and inside the bottle is a ship. I do not understand how he could have put the ship in there because the neck of the bottle is far too small.

'It is my wish that Alice get to travel far and wide,' Major Warren says, 'and that she sees everything and that she has adventures.'

'I'm not sure that adventures are quite what I would wish on a young lady,' Mrs Morton remarks, 'but they do say that travel broadens the mind.'

'And what will you give Alice, Lucius, old friend?' Mr Searle asks.

'Just this,' Lucius replies.

I realise that I am holding my breath. The gift is beautiful. It is a mobile, of the kind people hang above a baby's crib, but it is made of gold and I can see stars and moons slowly circling each other as he holds it up.

'One day, perhaps, your Alice will look up at stars such as this,' Lucius says, 'and understand the mysteries of the universe.'

'It is a marvellous gift,' Mr Searle says. 'And what of you, John. I doubt even you can best that.'

'Perhaps,' Dr Smith says. 'Perhaps not. In any event, am I the only one here who realises that it is only Christmas Eve and not the day itself. I reserve the right to give Lucy my present tomorrow.'

Mr Searle frowns.

'As you wish, John,' he says, 'but I hope that it will be worth it.'

'So do I,' Dr Smith replies. 'So do I.'

I hear a scream and I jump back. It is a good thing that I do for Mr and Mrs Searle and their guests have heard the scream as well and have come running through the door.

'What was that?' I hear one of them ask. In the confusion I cannot tell the voices apart.

'Where did it come from?' asks another.

They all go in different directions. They are looking for the person that screamed, but they do not find her. They return to the drawing-room. I keep my distance from them since they look very upset. Because of this, I do not see what they see when they enter the room.

'Good Lord,' Major Warren says.

I crawl closer and peer through the gap between the door and the wall. Mrs Morton is lying on the ground. Holly is wrapped around her neck like rope. Dr Smith kneels beside her.

'She is dead,' he says.

'Dead?' Reverend Patton exclaims. 'Dead?'

'Mrs Morton?' Mary-Anne wails. She falls to her knees and holds Mrs Morton's hand in her own. 'Tabitha?'

'She's gone, Mary-Anne,' Dr Smith says softly.

'Gone?' Mary-Anne says. 'She's not gone. She is right here. Can't you see her?'

'She's been murdered,' Major Warren declares. 'Just like Sir Charles.'

'Sir Charles' death was an accident,' Mr Searle tells him.

'That's what they want you to think.'

I gasp as Major Warren produces a gun and points it at the others.

'Nobody make any false moves,' he orders. 'There is a killer in this house and I for one do not intend to be his next victim.'

* * *

'Excuse me.'

Ellie jumped in her seat. She had just got to a good bit.

'Sorry,' Daniel said. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'That's okay.' Ellie turned in her seat so that she could look at him. 'What can I do for you?'

Daniel shuffled from foot to foot nervously.

'Well, I wanted to show you something,' he explained.

'What kind of something?' Ellie asked.

'Wellits difficult to explain,' he replied. 'It's weird. Just let me show it to you. Please?'

Ellie shrugged.

'Why not.' 

She got up and followed Daniel out of the room. He led her across the landing and into an empty room. In the room were a wardrobe (also empty) and a bed that had been stripped of bedclothes. The wardrobe had been pulled away from the wall and, when she peered behind it, Ellie could see a narrow staircase leading upwards.

'I was bored so I decided to do a bit of exploring,' Daniel told her. 'They're playing a selection of 'Christmas greats' downstairs and there's only so much Cliff Richard one man can take.'

'Who?' Ellie asked.

'Never mind,' Daniel said.

The staircase was made of stone and it spiralled its way through one of the towers Ellie had seen from outside the house. Ellie brushed a cobweb out of her face.

'I'm guessing no one comes up here very often,' she remarked.

'I know,' Daniel replied enthusiastically. 'Makes you want to know what's up here, doesn't it?'

'Not really,' Ellie muttered to herself.

Daniel stopped and turned to face her.

'Look, I want to thank you for coming with me,' he said. 'I made a right fool of myself earlier and you probably want nothing to do with me right now, but I don't really know anyone else here - well, except for Tapton and he doesn't really count - and I really needed someone to talk to.'

'Daniel, you didn't make a fool of yourself,' Ellie assured him.

'I didn't?'

Ellie shook her head.

'And I do like you,' she continued, 'but as a friend.'

Daniel looked slightly crestfallen.

'I'm sorry,' Ellie said to him. 'I like you, but it wouldn't work. And no, before you ask, it is not a you thing. To be honest, it's more of a 'Y' thing.'

'It's what?' Daniel asked.

'Never mind,' Ellie said, grinning. 'Let's see what's at the top of this tower of yours.'

At the top of the tower there was a door. The door was not locked, but it was difficult to open, having warped with age. Beyond the door was a bedroom and a girl was sleeping soundly in the bed. So soundly that the spiders had been able to weave their webs over her.

'See,' Daniel said, 'I told you it was weird.'

'You weren't kidding, were you,' Ellie agreed. 'What's a teenager doing in an old people's home and, more to the point, what's she doing stuck at the top of a tower nobody uses?'


	4. Episode Four

_At the top of the tower there was a door. The door was not locked, but it was difficult to open, having warped with age. Beyond the door was a bedroom and a girl was sleeping soundly in the bed. So soundly that the spiders had been able to weave their webs over her._

_'See,' Daniel said, 'I told you it was weird.'_

_'You weren't kidding, were you,' Ellie agreed. 'What's a teenager doing in an old people's home and, more to the point, what's she doing stuck at the top of a tower nobody uses?'_

_If you can look into the seeds of time_

_And say which grain will grow and which will not,_

_Speak then to me, who neither beg nor fear_

_Your favours nor your hate._

Macbeth, Shakespeare

'Mrs Arbogast said that she heard noises coming from the tower,' Tapton said. 'Somehow I expected it would be you, Miss Walker.'

Ellie spun round. Tapton had crept silently up the staircase and now blocked their exit from the room.

'What's going on here, Tapton?' Daniel demanded, stepping protectively in front of Ellie. 'Who is she?'

'That would be Miss Alice,' Tapton explained, 'and as for what's going on herewell, I shall have to be brutally honest, Mr Perrault, and say that I very much doubt that you will believe me.'

'Try us,' Ellie said, stepping out from behind Daniel.

'I believe that you will be open to what I have to say, Miss Walker,' Tapton clarified. 'You are, after all, a part of the events here. You companion, on the other hand, is an uninvited guest with a closed mind.'

'Now wait a minute' Daniel began.

'What do you mean I'm a part of it?' Ellie interrupted. 'I chose to come here. I wasn't invited.'

'Perhaps I would be better saying that you were drawn here,' Tapton continued. 'The drama has one more act left to run and all the players must resume their appointed parts.'

'And what part is Ellie supposed to play is these bizarre game of yours?' Daniel demanded. 'And what about Alice? Is she one of your players too?'

Daniel tried to step in front of me again, but I put a hand on his arm and restrained him.

'I can take care of myself,' I whispered.

'You might say that Alice is a player, Mr Perrault,' Tapton continued. 'Yes, you might very well say that.'

'Who is she, Mr Tapton?' I asked. 'At least tell us that.'

Tapton smiled.

'Don't you already know?' he asked me. 'Alice is the only child of the late Lord and Lady Searle.'

Daniel's eyes widened.

'But the last Lord Searle died'

'Over one hundred years ago,' Tapton supplied. 'You know your history, Mr Perrault.'

'You're crazy,' Daniel spat. He grabbed me by my wrist. 'Come on, Ellie, we're getting out of here.'

He dragged me out of the room. Tapton smiled enigmatically as he stepped to one side to let us past.

* * *

'What do you think you're doing, Daniel?'

Ellie tore her hand free of Daniel's grip once they reached the bottom of the stairs. They could hear the sounds of the Christmas party in the distance.

'I was just trying to protect you,' Daniel replied.

'Do I look like I need a knight in shining armour?' Ellie demanded. 'I told you, I can look after myself.'

'Tapton's clearly obsessed with you,' Daniel pointed out. 'There's no telling what he could do.'

'Have you looked at Tapton lately?' Ellie asked. 'He'd snap if he was out in a strong wind. I don't think he's going to harm me, do you?'

Several residents of the Searle's had gathered nearby to escape the heat and the noise in the dining-room. The looked up, their attention attracted by Ellie and Daniel's shouting, but the pair ignored them.

'And what about the girl?' Daniel continued.

Ellie folded her arms.

'Would this be the same girl that you left upstairs,' she pointed out, 'alone with Tapton?'

'I didn't think' Daniel started for the stairs.

'Don't bother,' Ellie told him. 'Someone's been looking after her up until now and I think we can both agree that it was Tapton. He's hardly likely to start hurting her now, is he?'

'Maybe not,' Daniel conceded.

'There's something weird going on,' Ellie mused, 'but I don't think Tapton's behind it. Sure, he's creepy, but it's like he wants to tell me something.'

'I'm calling the police,' Daniel declared. 'They can sort this all out.'

'Daniel, wait!' Ellie called after him, but he was already storming over to the reception desk.

'Do you have a phone I could use?' he asked the woman sitting behind the desk.

'You won't get any joy, I'm afraid,' she said. 'The snow has brought down the lines. We'll be cut off until morning.'

'Brilliant,' Daniel muttered. 'Just brilliant.'

'So what do you suggest we do now, oh brave knight?' Ellie drawled.

'It's hardly my fault the phones are out,' Daniel protested.

Ellie shook her head resignedly.

'I think you're overreacting,' she told him.

'And you know this how exactly?' Daniel sniped.

Ellie shrugged. 

'I've just got this feeling. Look, why don't we both go upstairs and try talking to Tapton again. Maybe I can convince him to open up and we can get to the bottom of this.'

'I suppose,' Daniel conceded.

'Mr Perrault?' A nurse cleared her throat next to them.

'Yes?' Daniel responded.

'Your father is asking for you,' the nurse informed him.

'My father?' Daniel turned back to me. 'I've got to go. You understand, don't you?'

'Of course I do,' Ellie assured him, but he was already racing away in the nurse's wake.

Nana clucked her tongue. She had been standing at the window throughout our conversation, but Ellie had failed to recognise her because Nana's back was to the rest of the room.

'I wonder where he's going in such a hurry?' Nana asked.

Ellie scowled at her.

'Don't do that, girl,' Nana scolded her, still not turning to face Ellie. 'If the wind changes you'll be stuck that way.'

Ellie hurried back up the stairs and away from the old woman.

* * *

Mr Tapton was sitting at the girl's - Alice's - bedside. He looked up when Ellie returned and gestured to a seat on the opposite side of the bed.

Ellie sat.

'She looks so peaceful,' Ellie said. 

'Peaceful, yes,' Tapton replied. 'Peaceful and innocent.'

'We won't wake her, will we, talking here?' Ellie asked.

Tapton shook his head.

'Alice hasn't woken for a very, very long time,' he said.

'A hundred years?' Ellie suggested.

Tapton nodded.

'Not since her first Christmas. I hope she enjoyed it.'

Ellie looked down at the girl in the bed. Her skin was pale, like porcelain, and her hair was black as night and shone like silk where it caught the light. Ellie reached out a hand and brushed the cobwebs from Alice's face.

'She reminds me of someone I used to know,' Ellie said.

'A friend,' Tapton asked.

'The best friend I ever had,' Ellie replied. 'She's beautiful.'

'She is the very image of her mother, Lady Searle,' Tapton said.

'I don't understand,' Ellie admitted. 'Assuming I believe you that she is the same Alice as the Searles' daughter, she can't be more than sixteen or seventeen at most.'

'She was supposed to be frozen in time,' Tapton said. 'The world would roll by, but she would remain unmoving.'

'So what happened?' Ellie asked.

'The spell was rushed,' Tapton said. 'It had to be. There was not time for anything else. As a result, the spell was far from perfect. He slowed her ageing, but even he could not halt it completely.'

'But why?'

'He was trying to save her life,' Tapton said. 'She would be long dead if not for him.'

Ellie looked at him quizzically.

'You know what happened, don't you?' she said. 'You know what really happened at the Searles' Christmas party?'

Tapton nodded.

'You were there!' Ellie realised suddenly. 'You can tell me about it!'

'You were there too, Miss Walker,' Tapton said patiently. 'Why don't you tell me?'

'But I don't remember,' Ellie said.

'Then it's probably a very good thing that you wrote it all down,' Tapton replied.

Ellie looked down. The diary was already in her hands though she did not remember lifting it from her bag. Tapton nodded his encouragement so Ellie cracked open the spine and began to read.

* * *

I gasp as Major Warren produces a gun and points it at the others.

'Nobody make any false moves,' he orders. 'There is a killer in this house and I for one do not intend to be his next victim.'

'What is a false move?' Mary-Anne asks, still kneeling by Mrs Morton's body. 'Is it so very different from a real one?'

'Say what?'

Major Warren looks down at the girl and, as he does so, he takes his eyes off of the other guests. Mr Morton darts forward and wrestles the gun from Major Warren's hand. Major Warren turns and I feel sure that his eyes are glowing red, but I tell myself that it must be the light from the fire.

'Calm yourself, Major,' Mr Searle says, helping the major to a seat. 'We are all friends here.'

Without his gun, Major Warren allows himself to be led about like a child.

'Be that as it may,' Reverend Patton says, 'there is still a murderer at large. If it is not one of us then there must be someone else at large within this place.'

'Hm, you may have a point,' Mr Searle says. 'Charles, would you mind waiting here with the major and the women while Lucius, John and myself scour the grounds.'

'As you wish,' Reverend Patton says. He reaches for Mary-Anne. 'Come away, child. Come sit by the fire. I fear your friend is beyond our help now.'

I hide in a corner out of sight when Dr Smith, Lucius Morton and Mr Searle leave the room. Mr Searle's house was filled with wonderful objects, things that served no use, as far as I can tell, other than to be there to look at. I sit behind a suit of armour Mrs Baxter had pointed out to me when she had first shown me round the house and I tuck my knees under my chin and I wait for Dr Smith to return.

It is a long wake and a pain builds in my legs though I dare not move, but finally Dr Smith, Mr Searle and Mr Morton come back. They have not found what they were looking for.

'If there was an assassin in the house,' Mr Searle says once Mr Wilkie has poured him a drink, 'then he is long gone. I fear that there is no more that can be done tonight. Let us retire.' Mr Searle drains his glass. 'Who knows, perhaps things will look different in the morning.'

The guests depart, all except for Dr Smith who paces the drawing-room. Mr Wilkie arranges for Mrs Morton's body to be taken away and then he leaves as well.

'You can come out now, Ellie,' Dr Smith says when we are alone.

'Sir?' I say as I tiptoe into the room. 'Would you like me to show you to your room?'

'What would be the point?' Dr Smith asks. He does not slow in his pacing. 'I doubt anyone will get much in the way of sleep tonight.'

'Sir?' I say again.

'Have a seat, Ellie,' he says. 'I need someone to talk to.'

'What about?' I ask.

He holds up a mind to silence me while he searches for a glass.

'Now,' he says to himself. 'Where did Wilkie hide that brandy. Ah!'

He produces the decanter and pours himself a drink.

'Something doesn't feel right, Ellie,' he says, throwing himself into a chair like a sack of potatoes. 'I expected him to have made his move by now.'

'Who, sir?' I ask.

'The killer, Ellie,' Dr Smith says. I am fixed in place by his bright blue eyes. 'The deaths of Sir Charles and Mrs Morton are just a prelude to the main event, assuming I haven't miscalculated.'

I wait patiently for him to continue.

'You don't realise what is going on here, do you?' Dr Smith says. 'You're the lucky one. Tell me, Ellie, have you never noticed anything odd about Lady Searle or her guests? Anything at all.'

I think about this for a moment.

'Major Warren's eyes, sir,' I begin to say, then I stop, fearing that I have said too much already.

'What about his eyes?' the Doctor asks.

'I thought I saw them glow, sir,' I say. 'Like hot coals. And Reverend Patton. His shadow doesn't look quite right.'

'Like it belongs to someone else, you mean?' Dr Smith says. 'Or should I say some_thing_ else. Your master's guests, Ellie, aren't quite human. I wonder if he realises?'

'I don't understand, sir,' I say.

'Don't worry about it,' Dr Smith tells me. 'The important thing is that there are two factions at work here, one working with Lady Searle and one against her. And I expected someone to make a move against her tonight, but so farnothing.'

Dr Smith springs to his feet and starts to pace again.

'I can't be wrong,' he mutters. 'All of the signs were there. But if Lady Searle isn't the intended victim then who'

He trails off and the blood drains from his face.

'Oh no,' he says. 'Please say it isn't so.'

He grabs hold of my shoulders, shaking me.

'Quickly, Ellie, where is the nursery?' he demands. 'We haven't a moment to lose.'

We run from the room. I hurry ahead, spurred on my Dr Smith who is but a single pace behind.

'We can't be too late,' Dr Smith mutters as we run. 'We can't.'

We are.

Somehow the Doctor has got ahead of me and it is he who throws open the door to the nursery. Alice is sitting up in her crib, gurgling happily. She reaches out for her new mobile, her hand clasping around one of the gold stars.

'No!' Dr Smith shouts.

The sharp points of the star drew blood from Alice's pudgy fingers. Her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses, her body limp. Dr Smith also deflates, collapsing against the wall.

'I was so sure,' he wails, 'so very sure.'

There is a crash like thunder and the nursery fills with smoke. When I can see again, I see Mrs Searle standing in the middle of the room. Her arms are outstretched, her eyes burn brightly and there is a strange crown on her head.

'What has happened to my baby?' she demands.

'Get out,' Dr Smith says weakly. 'Get out. Haven't you done enough damage?'

'Have a care, Doctor,' Mrs Searle says. 'Do you not know who I am?'

'Of course I know,' Dr Smith replies. 'That's why I'm here. You are the Queen of Midnight, the Lady of Nightmares, undisputed ruler of the Unseelie Court.'

'Then you know what I can do,' Mrs Searle says.

'Know?' Dr Smith says. 'I've seen it. Would you believe I came here to help you? I know what you are, how you feed, but I thought I could look past that. Then I saw what you did to that maid. You drained the life out of her!'

He was talking about Claire and I knew for certain then that she was not sleeping no matter what Dr Smith had told me.

'What is going on in here?' Mr Searle says.

He staggers into the room, one hand pressed against the wall to support him.

'I don't believe it,' Dr Smith says as he enters. 'You would feed on your own husband.'

'He is only mortal,' Mrs Searle says, 'and he had already given me what I wanted.'

'An heir,' Dr Smith says.

'Which you have taken from me,' Mrs Searle screams. 'I promise you that your death will be as long as it is painful. I have had centuries to perfect my torments.'

'Wait!' I shout. 'He didn't kill Alice. We came here to save her.'

Mrs Searle pauses and she looks at me. I wish that she had not for her gaze makes me feel as if I am full of ice and needles.

'Am I supposed to take the word of the maid?' she asks.

'No, but you could take my word. I wouldn't want the good doctor taking credit for something I take pride in.'

Lucius Morton stands in the doorway, a proud smile on his face.

'You?' Mrs Searle says. 'But you have ever been a friend to us.'

Mr Morton shrugs.

'That was before they offered me entry into the ranks of the Seelie.'

'They will always look down on you, Lucius,' Mrs Searle says. 'Even as one of them you will be beneath contempt.'

'Better to be a peasant in the kingdom of the angels,' Mr Morton replies, 'the a prince in the dirt.'

'You...you killed mymy daughter,' Mr Searle says weakly.

'Yes, I suppose I did,' Lucius says. 'Sorry about that, old chap. More importantly, I have killed the only heir to the Unseelie throne. All I need to do now is kill the queen and the whole court will be thrown into chaos, torn apart from within.' He pulls a twisted knife from beneath his jacket. 'Now, hold still, there's a dear, and I promise to make this quick.'

'You will die in agony,' Mrs Searle promises him.

'You first,' Mr Morton retorts.

He runs forward and plunges the knife deep into Mrs Searle's chest. Mrs Searle screams and the sound makes me shiver. With a great effort, she raises her hands and presses her palms to the sides of Mr Morton's head. A smell like Sunday roast fills the air and now Mr Morton's screams join those of Mrs Searle.

Then all is silent. The bodies of Mrs Searle and Mr Morton lie twisted and broken on the floor. The stillness is broken by a gentle sound, the sound of Mr Searle crying.

Reverend Patton, Major Warren and Mary-Anne Appleton run into the nursery.

'What happened here?' Major Warren asks. 'We heard noises andis that Mr Morton.'

'His remains,' Dr Smith says.

He crosses the room to join Mr Searle.

'I don't understand,' Mr Searle sobs. 'My wife?'

'Your wife was one of the faerie-folk,' Dr Smith explains. 'A very important one, but she hadappetites. Appetites of which you are a victim.'

'I feel as if I have been robbed of all my strength,' Mr Searle says. 'John, tell me truly, as one friend to another, have I long for this world?'

Dr Smith shook his head.

'And Alice,' Mr Searle asks, 'my beautiful daughter, what has been done to her?'

'She was the heir to a kingdom,' Dr Smith says, 'so Lucius killed her. He killed you wife, Sir Charles and Tabitha Morton as well, all to please his Seelie masters.'

'You are wrong, Doctor,' Reverend Patton says. He is standing by the crib. 'Alice still lives, though barely.'

'Really?'

Dr Smith bounds to his feet and begins to examine Alice.

'Can you save her, John?' Mr Searle asks.

'II don't know,' Dr Smith says, 'but I promise you this, if it is within my power to help her then I will.'

'Thank you,' Mr Searle says.

'Now, everybody out,' Dr Smith says. 'I need peace and quiet.'

Sir Charles, Mary-Anne, Major Warren, Mr Searle and I all leave the room. Dr Smith closes the door behind us.

* * *

That was the last entry in the diary. Ellie closed the book gently, her head set spinning by what she had just read. Did this mean that Alice was a faerie? That was ridiculous, surely, but something about the words in the diary rang true with Ellie. Was it because she had written them herself? Ellie was not quite prepared to believe Tapton on that score just yet.

She opened her mouth to ask him about it and noticed that he was no longer there. He must have slipped out while she was engrossed in the book.

'Well, I hope you enjoyed the story, Alice,' she said to the sleeping girl, 'even if someone else obviously got bored.'

Ellie sat quietly and watched Alice sleep. What dreams did she have, Ellie wondered. What dreams could last one hundred years? She did look remarkably like Abigail, so much so that just looking at her brought back memories. She could feel Abigail's soft flesh as she held her, smell her scent. The sight of her shy, half-smile was vivid in her mind's eye, as was the picture of her in scarf and hat as she stepped out on to the ice, her skates carving narrow furrows in the ice.

Ellie shook herself, snapping back to reality and preventing her mind from replaying what had happened next.

'Never fall in love, Alice,' she said. 'It's only brings you pain in the end. But I guess you're not going to have that problem.'

Ellie leaned forward and kissed Alice gently on the forehead. Then she put the diary back in her bag, stood up and left the room.

* * *

She reached the bottom of the spiral staircase just in time to hear a hammering on the front door.

'Who's that going to be at this time of night,' Ellie wondered aloud. 'I thought no one could get here because of the snow.'

'You don't really think a little snow is going to stop _him_, do you?' Nana asked.

Ellie blinked. She was sure she had been alone on the landing a moment before, but now she was surrounded by Nana, Violet and her baby.

'He walks the paths no one else treads,' Violet added.

'But he'll get his comeuppance soon enough, you'll see,' Nana said.

'Yes,' Violet said, 'his luck will only hold out for so much longer.'

The baby burbled her agreement.

Ellie raced down to the foyer, wanting to see the new arrival. He stood in the doorway, brushing the snow from his green velvet jacket.

'Doctor,' Tapton said, striding forward and shaking the man by the hand, 'a pleasure as always.'

'Patton!' Dr Smith said. 'I see you've left the church. Never did think it was you.' He looked up at Ellie. 'And Miss Walker. I've been looking forward to running into you again, Ellie. I do hope I'm not too late this time.'

'No, not on this occasion, dear,' Nana said.

Ellie turned. Nana and Violet were walking slowly towards them. The baby, carried in Violet's arms, opened her mouth and Ellie was shocked to see row upon row of tiny sharp teeth. The baby looked at Dr Smith with eyes like black saucers.

'This once, you've arrived just in time,' she said.

Upstairs, in the room at the top of the tower, Alice's eyes fluttered open.


	5. Episode Five

_Ellie raced down to the foyer, wanting to see the new arrival. He stood in the doorway, brushing the snow from his green velvet jacket._

_'Doctor,' Tapton said, striding forward and shaking the man by the hand, 'a pleasure as always.'_

_'Patton!' Dr Smith said. 'I see you've left the church. Never did think it was you.' He looked up at Ellie. 'And Miss Walker. I've been looking forward to running into you again, Ellie. I do hope I'm not too late this time.'_

_'No, not on this occasion, dear,' Nana said._

_Ellie turned. Nana and Violet were walking slowly towards them. The baby, carried in Violet's arms, opened her mouth and Ellie was shocked to see row upon row of tiny sharp teeth. The baby looked at Dr Smith with eyes like black saucers._

_'This once, you've arrived just in time,' she said._

_Upstairs, in the room at the top of the tower, Alice's eyes fluttered open._

_How many goodly creatures are there here!_

_How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,_

_That has such people in't._

The Tempest, Shakespeare

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as he studied Nana, Violet and the baby.

'Megaera, Tisiphone and Alecto,' he said slowly. 'Maid, mother and crone together.'

'Did you hear what he called me?' Nana said. 'The cheek of it.'

'We are the Three-Who-Are-One,' Violet said.

'We are the Kindly Ones,' the baby continued, blinking her frog-like eyes.

'You are the Furies,' the Doctor said.

'You know these three?' Ellie asked him.

'We've met before,' the Doctor said, not taking his eyes from the Furies. 'They see themselves as a form of classical justice.'

'We are justice,' Violet said.

'We punish those who spill the blood of their own kin,' Nana added. 'That is the way of it.'

'You kill,' Dr Smith said. 'How are you any better than those you take it upon yourselves to punish?'

'We are the Furies,' the baby said. 'Our role is ordained.'

'Fate?' the Doctor asks. 'I don't believe in it.'

'So what are you doing here?' Ellie asked the Furies. She had crossed the hallway to stand with the Doctor and Mr Tapton - or Patton, or whoever he was - the three of them arranged against the three women.

'Haven't you guessed, girl?' Nana asked.

'We are here to right a wrong,' Violet said.

'One hundred years in the making,' the baby added.

'I'll stop you,' the Doctor said. 'There's been too much killing already.'

'We hope you try,' the baby said.

'We would revel in the chance to punish you for your interference,' Violet said.

'Especially after our last encounter,' Nana added.

'I don't have time for this,' the Doctor said, storming past the Furies and up the stairs.

'Try your hardest,' Nana cackled after him. 'It won't be enough.'

'I don't understand,' Ellie whispered to Tapton. 'Who are these people? What's Dr Smith doing here? Basically, what is going on?'

'If all goes well, Miss Walker,' Tapton replied, 'this will be the final move in a game begun a century ago. The Doctor made a promise to Lord Searle that he would do whatever was in his power to save his daughter. He is here now to make good on that promise. The Furies, I suspect, are also here to fulfil a promise, one to avenge the spilling on kin-blood. Regrettably, I fear that their respective oaths have drawn them into conflict.'

'And what about you?' Ellie asked. 'Where do you fit into this? Are you Mr Tapton or Reverend Patton or what?'

'What? A very astute remark,' Tapton replied. 'Yes, you would probably consider me a what.'

He grinned and his flesh rippled. His frame distorted as his legs buckled and his back twisted and hunched. Coarse, brown fur sprouted up from his skin and he tore at his clothes with claw-like fingernails. A tail flicked behind him.

Ellie's mouth hung open.

'My appearance is rather striking, isn't it?' Tapton said. 'Before you ask, I will tell you that I am a Brag. Or a Bogart. Or whatever term you mortals are using for us this year.'

'You're a faerie,' Ellie managed.

Tapton pulled himself up haughtily.

'I prefer to think of myself as a member of the Unseelie Court,' he said, 'but yes, you are quite right, Miss Walker.'

'And is Dr Smith part of this Unseelie Court as well?' Ellie asked.

'I thought so,' Tapton said, 'when I first met him. I am older and wiser now.'

'So what is he then?' Ellie said.

'Hm, let me try and explain,' Tapton began. 'There is a tale they tell in Africa about a lion and a hare. One day the lion caught the hare and was about to eat him.

''You cannot eat me,' the hare said to the lion. 'I am too small and thin for the likes of you. After you have eaten me you will still be hungry. Why don't we go hunting together that we may catch you something fat?'

'The lion thought the idea ridiculous so the hare continued, 'Let us go to the village where men live. If we cannot find you something fatter than I, then I will let you eat me.'

'This seemed fair to the lion so they went together to the edge of the village and they hunted. The lion caught a fat young bull, but the hare found nothing but a mangy donkey that was rolling in the dust of the road. As they were walking home together, the hare looked at the lion's bull and his mouth watered.

''Lion,' he said, 'what bad luck you've had. You bull is so thin and undernourished. Better you had eaten me than that poor creature.'

'The lion looked first at his bull and then at the hare's donkey. 'He doesn't look so thin to me,' the lion said.

''But everyone knows,' the hare told him, 'that when you strike a fat animal it gives off steam.'

'The lion had not heard that before, but not wanting to appear foolish in front of the hare, he said, 'Yes, everyone knows that.' He picked up a stick and hit his bull across the back, but there was no steam. He struck it again, but still there was no steam.

''He is fat,' the lion insisted without conviction.

''Poor lion,' the hare said, 'your bull has been starved near to death.'

'The hare took the stick from the lion and used it to strike his donkey. A cloud of dust rose into the air. It was dust from the road in which the donkey had been rolling.

''See,' the hare said proudly, 'there is a fat animal for you.'

'The lion thought about this for a moment and said, 'I will take the donkey and you can have my bull.'

''Oh no,' said the hare. 'I caught the donkey so he is mine to eat.'

'But the lion became angry so the hare traded with him and the lion took the mangy donkey and the hare took the fat young bull. 

'As they continued on the trail, the hare gather up eight feathers and put them in his belt like knives. When they stopped to rest and to drink, the hare turned to the lion and said, 'Lion, I have a set of eight knives. If I lose one then I will still have seven left. You only have one knife. What will you do if you lose it?'

'The lion thought about this for a moment and said, 'The mighty hunter should have the weapons. Let us trade.'

''Oh no,' said the hare. 'Since I am so small, I need the weapons more than you do.'

'But the lion became angry so the hare traded with him and the lion took the eight feathers and the hare took the lion's knife. 

'When they came to the lion's cave, the hare stopped and looked at it. It had only one door.

''Lion,' the hare said, 'your house is a trap.'

''How so?' asked the lion.

''You have only one door,' the hare explained. 'Aren't you afraid? Look at my house over there. It has many doors. If a hunter comes for me by one door than I leave by another. But if a hunter enters your house, where can you go?'

'The lion thought about this for a moment and said, 'I have never thought of that before. We must trade.'

''Oh no,' said the hare. 'I could not live in a trap.'

'But the lion became angry so the hare traded with him and he went into the lion's house and he closed the door behind him. He killed the bull with his new knife and he cooked it and he grew fatter than before. The lion moved into the hare's home and took on of the feathers from his belt and tried to kill the donkey with it. But the feather would not cut the donkey. It only tickled him. So the lion took another feather from his belt and tried again. It tickled the donkey worse and he laughed. He could not stop laughing. The lion took another feather, but the donkey could stand no more so it broke free and escaped into the fields. 

'And now, whenever the donkey thinks of how the lion tickled him with the feather, he laughs.'

'Are you saying that Dr Smith is the hare?' Ellie asked.

'Perhaps,' Tapton said. 'The tale is older than I am, as is the Doctor.'

'He looks younger.'

'Never judge a book by its cover,' Tapton said, 'or a faerie by his glamour. The point is that there are trickster stories in ever culture across the globe and it is my opinion that you will find the Doctor at the heart of most of them.'

'But can we trust him?' Ellie asked.

'I would trust him with my life and I owe him far more than that,' Tapton replied. 'The Doctor asked me to stay here and keep watch over Alice until he returned and, excepting the occasional change of identity, this is where I have been ever since.'

'You kept watch for a hundred years?' Ellie said.

'I would have gladly guarded her for longer,' Tapton replied. 'You don't understand just how important Alice is to Unseelie everywhere. And that is why I cannot allow the Furies to get hold of her.'

He turned to Nana, Violet and the transformed baby.

'Now ladies,' he began, 'if you would be so kind as to vacate the premises. Your presence here is no longer required.'

'We go where we will, guardian,' Violet said.

'There can be no barriers to our vengeance,' Nana agreed.

'We shall see about that,' Tapton said.

He sprang at the Furies, claws outstretched. Ellie did not see Nana move, but one second Tapton was sailing through the air, the next he hung limp in Nana's grip, her hand around his throat.

'You wish to do us harm, guardian,' Nana said. 'Many have tried.'

'And yet he we are still,' Violet added.

'Or, to put it another way,' the baby said, 'you can't kill us, but we can kill you.'

Tapton screamed and Ellie put hid her face behind her hands. Tapton was being stretched like soft toffee, spread far too thin for any man or, judging by the agony in his screams, for a faerie. And then, as if someone had turned off the television, complete with the brief residue of light, Tapton was gone.

'You killed him!' Ellie yelled.

'He would have done the same to us,' Nana pointed out. 'It's survival.'

'And now what will you do?' Ellie asked. 'Kill me?'

'No, not you girl,' Nana said.

'We'll do what we came for,' Violet continued.

'Kill Alice,' the baby said.

Then the Furies faded away like smoke leaving Ellie with tears staining her face.

* * *

There was no time for the luxury of mourning. Ellie forced herself into motion and raced up the stairs to Alice's room two steps at a time. She was just in time. The Furies were appearing at the top of the stairs, like an image slowly coming into focus. Ellie positioned herself between the three women and the door to Alice's bedroom.

'Get out of our way, girl,' Nana said.

'No,' Ellie replied. 'I won't.'

'We don't want to have to hurt you, Ellie,' Violet said.

'We feel your pain,' the baby added.

'I don't feel much like sharing,' Ellie said, 'and I don't feel much like letting you kill Alice.'

'Her mother spilled kin-blood,' Nana explained. 'Now the daughter must pay for her crime.'

'How can you justify that?' Ellie asked. 'Alice was just a baby at the time. How can she be held responsible for what her mother had done?'

'She would be dead had her mother not intervened,' Violet replied.

'We are simply setting right a wrong,' the baby said.

'Well if you want her,' Ellie said defiantly, 'then you'll have to go through me.'

The Furies seemed to hesitate.

'Come on then,' Ellie said. 'Aren't you going to kill me like you did Mr Tapton?'

The Furies began to fade.

'We will return for you, Ellie Walker,' Violet said. 'If you believe in any higher powers, now is your chance to make your peace with them.'

And then they were gone.

* * *

The Doctor was sitting at Alice's bedside, occupying the same chair Ellie had sat in when she read to the girl. Alice herself was sitting up in her bed and drinking from a plastic bottle of water.

'Take it steadily,' the Doctor was saying as Alice gulped greedily. 'You don't want to drink too much too fast.'

'Tapton's dead,' Ellie said.

'Tapton?' the Doctor asked, confused.

'Tapton? Patton? Whoever your buddy was,' Ellie replied. 'Those things killed him.'

The Doctor closed his eyes.

'No,' he said, the word barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper. 'I wanted to prevent this. There wasn't supposed to be any more killing, but I'm running out of time and there's still so much left to do.'

'You managed to wake her up,' Ellie said, nodding towards Alice. 'That must count for something.'

The Doctor looked up and smiled at her.

'No, Ellie,' he said. 'You woke her up. You were the trigger, you see. It had to be someone nearby. Someone I could trust.'

'I don't understand,' Ellie admitted. 'Are you saying that I'm over a hundred years old as well. That I'm a faerie too.'

'No, you're a mortal, Ellie,' the Doctor said, 'as old as your tongue and slightly older than your teeth. The Ellie Walker that wrote your diary both is and isn't you.'

'Well that's real clear,' Ellie said.

'You're an echo, Ellie,' the Doctor said. 'A photocopy of the original, the latest in a long line of photocopies. Each copy is imperfect so while you share some traits with your Victorian counterpart, you are still very much your own person, I assure you.'

'Dr Smith' Ellie began.

'Dr Smith? Is that who you think I am?' the Doctor asked with amusement.

'I haven't a clue who anybody is anymore,' Ellie snapped.

'Call me the Doctor,' the Doctor suggested gently.

'The Doctor? That's not a name,' Ellie said.

'Maybe so,' the Doctor replied, 'but it is who I am.'

Ellie considered this for a moment and then nodded her acceptance. 

'Doctor,' she said, 'you do realise I still haven't a clue what you did to Alice.'

'Would it help if I called it encephalitis lethargica?' the Doctor asked.

Ellie pulled a face.

'I think I preferred it when we were just talking about magic.'

The Doctor smiled.

'Once upon a time,' he said, 'there was a little weaver bird. One day, a mouse visited the weaver bird and, twitching its tiny nose, the mouse said, 'If I might be so bold, could you tell me which wing you lift first when you start to fly? Is it your left or your right?'

'The weaver bird paused. It had never thought about this before and it occurred to the bird that it did not know. So it flapped its wings, thinking that when it took off, it would see which of its wings it used first. And the bird tried first with its left wing and then with its right and a third time it tried lifting both wings at the same time, but in no case did the bird leave the ground. It was concentrating so hard on how it should fly, you see, that it had completely forgotten how it did.'

'And is that little parable supposed to mean something to me?' Ellie asked.

'Yes,' the Doctor replied. 'Don't think about things too hard.'

Ellie threw her hands up into the air in exasperation.

'Why is everyone in this place so obsessed with telling stories?' she demanded.

The Doctor looked thoughtful.

'As a good friend of mine once said,' he replied, 'fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated. There are dragons abroad tonight, Ellie, but you and I are going to find a way to beat them.'

* * *

  
Daniel was wandering the halls of the building aimlessly. His father had no longer been coherent when he had arrived at his room. Instead, he had spat insults at Daniel thinking he was someone else. For on horrible minute, Daniel had really believed that his father had been talking about him, but it slowly became clear that his father was relieving an event from his past. Nonetheless, the taunts and the jibes soon became too much for Daniel so he left his father in search of the nurses and tried to walk off the tension that built up inside him. He felt as though he had been walking for hours.

'Daniel,' a female voice called to him.

He looked around for the source.

'Hello?' he said. 'Where are you? I can't see you.'

'We're all around you, Daniel,' said another voice.

'We're in your head,' said a third.

'Look, I've had a bad enough day as it is,' Daniel shouted at the empty corridor. 'Why don't you just come out where I can see you?'

'Yes, you have had a bad day, haven't you?' the second voice said.

'When do you think it started going wrong?' the first voice asked.

'Was it when you met Ellie Walker perhaps?' the third voice suggested.

'No,' Daniel insisted. 'I like Ellie. She's good people.'

'But she doesn't like you, does she, Daniel?' the first voice said.

'She thinks you're only here because of your father's will.'

'I told her that wasn't true,' Daniel said.

'Of course you did, Daniel,' the second voice said, 'and I believe you. But she didn't, did she?'

'You were trying so hard to be her friend and still she didn't trust you,' the first voice added. 'What kind of a person does that make her?'

'She used you, Daniel,' the third voice said. 'She led you on and then laughed when your hopes were dashed on the rocks.'

'She's cruel, Daniel.'

'She's heartless.'

'What are you going to do about her?'

'You're twisting everything,' Daniel protested. 'Get out of my head!'

'And how do you think we got in there, Daniel?'

'We've always been there, Daniel.'

'We're you.'

'No,' Daniel said. 'No you're not. You can't be.'

'But we are, Daniel.'

'And we're not going away until you do something about Ellie Walker.'

'Something permanent. Something fatal.'

* * *

'How are you feeling?' Ellie asked Alice.

Alice opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was a dry, scratchy sigh.

'She's not strong enough to talk yet,' the Doctor said. 'She had to remain asleep long enough to purge the Seelie poison from her system but now it's going to take a while for her body to come out of hibernation.'

'Well, while we wait,' Ellie said, 'maybe you can explain what you're trying to accomplish here?'

'I'm trying to stop a war,' the Doctor said. 'For as long as anyone can remember, the Seelie and the Unseelie have been at war. I'm trying to get them to declare a truce.'

'But aren't the Unseelie the bad guys?' Ellie asked. 'I mean wasn't Lady Searle some kind of vampire or something?'

'Being Unseelie doesn't make you evil, Ellie,' the Doctor said. 'Morality is about who you are, not what. Yes, Lady Searle was evil, but that was her decision, nothing to do with her biology. The Seelie are the pure blooded, beautiful faerie-folk. The Unseelie are everything else. But they're not good faerie and bad faerie. Not even pretty faerie and pretty ugly faerie. Just like faerie and unlike faerie. But the similarities between the two groups far, far outweigh the differences. If only I could get them to see that.

'Is that the Furies meant when they said Lady Searle had shed kin-blood?' Ellie asked. 'That Lucius Morton was somehow related to her?'

'And that's exactly my point,' the Doctor said. 'All faeries share a common ancestry and if their ties are such that the Furies consider different faeries to be kin then their must have more in common than not.'

Ellie paused. She was turning over an idea in her mind.

'Doctor,' she said at last. 'I don't think the Furies can kill me.'

'What makes you say that?' the Doctor asked. He was standing up now, examining his patient.

'Well, they killed Tapton without hesitation,' Ellie said, 'but when I got between them and you, they went away. Wouldn't it have been easier to just kill me?'

'Yes, that's always been the trouble,' the Doctor said. 'Ending a life is easy.'

'They said they could feel my pain,' Ellie continued. 'You don't suppose that maybe they couldn't kill me because they felt sorry for me?'

The Doctor stared at Ellie.

'I doubt it's anything as prosaic as that,' he said, 'and it clearly isn't that you've been murdered by one of your kin, butI wonder. If you had been harmed by a relative in someway, would that set up enough of a resonance to hold them back?'

'We don't need to know how it works, Doctor,' Ellie said, 'just that it does. If the Furies can't harm me then maybe we have a way to fight them.'

'They can't harm you _directly_,' the Doctor pointed out, 'but'

'Where am I?' Alice croaked.

Both Ellie and the Doctor focussed on her, their conversation forgotten in an instant.

'Alice, welcome back to the land of the living,' the Doctor said. 'I am the Doctor and this is my friend Ellie Walker. She woke you up.'

'Sorry about that,' Ellie said.

'Howhow long have I been asleep?' Alice asked.

'A long time,' the Doctor said. 'A very long time.'

'My parents?'

The Doctor took Alice's hand in both of his.

'I'm sorry, Alice,' he said, 'but both of your parents passed away. But I promised your father that I would look after you and I will. But first I have to tell you something of your heritage.'

'And then?' Alice asked.

'Well, a long time ago I promised you a Christmas present,' the Doctor said. 'I doubt you remember, but I do and I like to think that I am a man of my word. Your other godparents gave you knowledge and beauty and grace and the ability to travel wherever you willed. I'm going to give you a choice.'

There was a pounding at the door.

'Not now,' the Doctor complained. 'I'm not ready. I need just a little while longer. Please!'

'Don't worry, Doctor,' Ellie said, crossing confidently to the door. 'I'll buy you all the time you need.'

* * *

Ellie expected to find the Furies outside the door. She expected to be able to engineer a stalemate with them being unable to enter the room without killing her, something she was certain they could not do.

She had not expected Daniel to be outside.

He lunged at her with a pair of scissors. Ellie ducked out of the way at the last moment and the points of the scissors dug a deep grove in the bedroom door.

'Stay still, damn you,' Daniel said.

'Daniel, what's got into you?' Ellie asked.

She circled Daniel warily, keeping a close eye on the scissors clenched in his fist.

'The voices in my head,' Daniel said. 'They've told me all about you. I'll only be free of you if I cut you out.'

He lunged again so Ellie dived out of the way. She caught her foot on a loose floorboard and went tumbling head over heels down the spiral staircase. Her fall ended when she slammed into a wall.

'Don't move,' Daniel said as he descended the stairs towards her, 'and I'll make this quick. It's more than you deserve.'

'Daniel,' Ellie said, 'what is it you think I've done?'

It hurt too much to get up, hurt too much to try to escape.

'You led me on,' Daniel said. 'You led me on and then you rejected me. And then you laughed.'

'I so did not laugh,' Ellie replied.

'I thought you liked me,' Daniel said, advancing a step.

'I do like you.'

'I thought you loved me.' Daniel took another step.

'I do,' Ellie said, 'as a friend.'

'But nothing more,' Daniel said. He was nearly on top of her.

'It wouldn't work,' Ellie insisted.

'But why wouldn't it work?' Daniel asked. 'Tell me that. What is wrong with me?'

He lifted the scissors above his head, ready to plunge them down into his target.

'Because you're a guy and I'm gay,' Ellie shouted. 'Do I have to spell it out for you?'

Daniel froze.

'Abigail realised it as soon as saw me,' Ellie continued, her voice soft and wistful. 'I hadn't a clue, even at that age, but Abigail knew. I sort of assumed that I'd be into guys, you know, but I never really connected with them so I was left with my assumptions and not a whole lot else. Then Abigail came along and bowled over my assumptions like so many pins. Let's just say that I was pretty sure of where I stood after a week or two with Abby.

'When Mom found out she was furious. No, _Dad_ was furious, Mom was just ashamed. And it hurt. It hurt so bad that it felt like someone had put there hand on my heart and started to twist it and twist it until it would twist no more. I wanted them to be happy for me. I was happier than I had been in my whole life and here they were ruining it because they couldn't accept that their daughter might be different from their ideal. But I still had Abby and, when all was said and done, she was all I needed. She nursed me through that time and helped me piece myself back together, helped convince me that I wasn't a freak or a monster and that what we had together wasn't a crime.

'Mom threw me out so Abby and I got a place of our own. It wasn't much, but we had a bed and a roof over our heads. I had to get a job to pay my way, had to work really, really long hours to earn anything like what I needed so I got to see less of Abby than I would have liked. But that just made the time we had together all the sweeter. Despite everything, I was in heaven and I felt certain it would never end.

'Then Abby decided to teach me to skate. She had been taught when she was four, but I had never been on ice-skates in my life. It was a bitterly cold day. The snow was thick and the lake had frozen over. I didn't want to go skating, convinced I would make a fool of myself, but Abby was insistent and she knew that I could never say no to her. She told me that the ice was thick enough to take our weight and I believed her.'

Ellie fought back her tears.

'She executed two perfect circles on the ice while I sat on the bank, struggling to get my skates one. She was sliding slowly towards me, laughing at my predicament. I said something in return. If I could go back and change it I would. The ice splintered under her. It all happened to fast for either of us to do anything. She fell straight down through the hole in the ice. I crawled out after her, hoping to pull her out to safety, but the hole was already freezing over again in the cold. She looked up at me through the window of ice. Her skin was already turning blue. I screamed for help, shouted myself hoarse and finally someone came. We smashed a hole in the ice big enough to pull her out through and we laid her on the bank and tried to resuscitate her. But by then it was far, far too late.

'Mom didn't even come to the funeral.

'II didn't know what to do after that. I went to work during the day and I came home at night to an empty apartment. I slept in a bed that was always cold. When I dream, I see her face and I hold her in my arms and she tells me that she loves me. When I wake the first thing I do is remember that she's gone. What kind of life is that? So, Daniel, if you want to kill me, you go right ahead because I've got nothing left to live for!'

The scissors fell from Daniel's limp fingers and clattered down the stone steps.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.'

'I do,' Ellie said harshly.

She looked over Daniel's shoulder to where the Furies were materialising out of thin air.

'Help me up, Daniel,' Ellie said.

He put an arm around her and helped her to stand and together the hobbled back up the stairs towards the Furies. Ellie wiped the tears from her face with the end of her sleeve.

'You've lost,' Ellie said. 'Daniel won't kill me and you can't.'

'We don't want to kill you, girl,' Nana said.

'We just want to keep you out of the way while we kill Alice,' Violet continued.

'So where is she?' the baby asked.

'Right here,' the Doctor declared, striding boldly out of the bedroom. Alice followed behind him, wearing his jacket over her nightdress.

'So the hunted comes to the hunter,' Nana said.

'Thank you for sparing us the trouble of the chase,' Violet agreed.

'Wait,' the Doctor said, holding up his hand. 'I haven't come here to let you kill Alice.'

'Then why are you here?' the baby asked.

'You can't possibly think that you can protected her,' Violet said.

'She doesn't need my protection,' the Doctor said. 'Why don't you listen to what she has to say? I think you'll find that she has solved both of her problems for us.'

'The Doctor has explained the current situation to me,' Alice began, 'and he has explained my past and my parentage and I have come to a decision. I am the heir to the throne of the Unseelie Court and I fully intend to take my place on it.'

'Not in this lifetime, child,' Nana muttered.

'Oh do be quiet,' the Doctor snapped.

'I have inherited all of my mother's power and more,' Alice continued, 'and I intend to use that power. I shall create a union between my Court the Seelie Court and then I shall dissolve them both to create a single realm where all faerie folk may be welcome. It is long past time for unity rather than division.'

'Does she really believe this will work?' Nana said.

'Does it matter to you in the end?' the Doctor asked. 'Whether Alice succeeds or not, this will be the end of the Unseelie Court and isn't that what Lucius wanted. He has his vengeance.'

'We wanted blood,' Nana said.

'I thought you wanted justice,' the Doctor countered.

'We do not like you solution, Doctor,' Violet said, 'but you are correct, it does provide Lucius with his vengeance and, as such, we have no choice but to accept it. But be warned, I doubt you will be so lucky should we meet for a third time.'

Then the Furies faded away to nothing.

The Doctor let out a sigh of relief.

'Do you know something, Ellie,' he said, 'I wasn't entirely convinced that was going to work.'

* * *

Ellie found the Doctor in the common-room playing chess with one of the residents. Sunlight streamed through the windows signalling the end of the storm that had trapped them there. 

'I was afraid you'd left without saying goodbye,' she said to him.

'Mate in seven,' the Doctor said to his opponent before turning to Ellie. 'Alice still needs time to recuperate and I've promised to escort her to her palace as soon as she's well enough.'

'I bet that's going to cause quite a stir,' Ellie said.

'Indeed,' the Doctor agreed, 'but then that's half the fun.'

'You know,' Ellie said, 'if someone had told me that I would be discussing the fate of the faerie kingdom with a guy several hundred years old this Christmas I would have never believed it.'

'And do you believe it now?' the Doctor asked.

'Not sure,' Ellie admitted, 'but I'm trying to keep an open mind.'

'Good for you,' the Doctor said. 'It's good to see you smiling again, by the way. Have you worked out what you're going to do next?'

'I thought I might stay in England for a bit,' Ellie told him. 'See the sites. Try to get my head together. Daniel's offered me a place to stay. I think he's still hoping for something more but'

'Be true to yourself, Ellie,' the Doctor said. 'That's my advice.'

'Thanks, Doctor,' Ellie said. 'For everything.'

The Doctor inclined his head.

'You're welcome,' he said, 'but it was no less than you deserved considering your part in this affair. Which reminds me' 

He produced a book from a coat pocket and handed it to her. It was the diary.

'Yours, I believe,' he said. 'You must have dropped it when you took that tumble down the stairs.'

'Thank you,' Ellie said. 'I'd been wondering what had happened to this. To be honest, I've been feeling kind of lost without it, though I've no idea what I'm going to do with it now that I've got it.'

'Well, there are some blank pages at the back,' the Doctor said. 'Why don't you finish the story. You know what I think it needs?'

'What?'

'A happy ending.'

'A happy ending,' Ellie repeated. 'You know something, Doctor? I like the way you think.'

She paused.

'Will I see you again?' she asked.

The Doctor shrugged.

'Who knows?' he said. 'Perhaps. Time will tell. It usually does.'

'Goodbye, Doctor,' Ellie said.

'Goodbye, Ellie,' the Doctor said, standing up and taking her hand in his. 'It's been a privilege and a pleasure.'

He released her and Ellie turned to go. She walked from the common-room, past the reception desk and out of the front door into the snow and the sunlight. In the distance she could see a frozen lake and, if she held her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun, she could see children on the lake, skating and shouting. A tear formed in the corner of her eye, but it was a happy tear, not a sad one.

Finally, with a shy half smile at the world, Ellie adjusted her bag and set off down the road in search of happy endings.


End file.
